In a New York Minute(87)

“That’s good. I’m really glad to hear that.”

Cleo put her cup down and looked directly at me. “How are you doing, though?”

I shrugged. “Busy with work. We’re expanding to Seattle, and maybe San Diego, or somewhere in California. So that’s exciting.”

“I mean, with how you feel about Franny.” Cleo looked at me like she could read my thoughts. Lola nodded in agreement and then also turned her attention toward me.

My insides roiled. “Franny wants nothing to do with me, and I respect that. I can’t change how she feels. That’s not my place.”

“God, for someone so smart, you sure are dumb sometimes.” Lola’s eyes rolled, but she was looking at me with affection. “Trust me, she definitely wants ‘something to do with you.’”

She said the last words while waving her fingers in air quotes. A feeling deep inside me pinged with possibility, but I shoved it down.

“What I mean is, I know we’re done,” I said. “But I still care about her. That’s why I reached out to you both.”

“And because you want us to like you,” said Cleo. Her voice was so gentle that it almost masked that direct hit of her statement.

“Well, yeah.” I blinked, unnerved. She’d thrown me off my game. “Yeah, I do.”

I cleared my throat and kept going. “You can’t help wanting the friends of the person you’re in—the person you’re interested in to like you. Even if it isn’t going to go anywhere.” I took a sip of my coffee, trying not to let on how self-conscious I felt about admitting all this to them. “And also because I think you’re both cool.”

“Aw,” said Cleo, taking a sip of her drink.

“And you’re dating Perrine.” I gestured to Lola. “And it’s important for me to know you, and be your friend.”

Lola’s face softened instantly when I mentioned Perrine.

“Does she know about this?” I asked.

She waved a hand between us. “No. I’ll tell her. But first I wanted to talk to you.”

Lola shifted in her seat and leaned toward me. “As long as we’re here,” she said, “there’s something I wanted to ask you. I need your help with something.”

“Okay,” I said, grateful for the attention to be off me. “Tell me what you need.”

Lola leaned forward in her seat, sliding her hands onto the table. “I want to propose to Perrine, and I want you to help me to do it.”

“Holy shit,” I said. This was definitely not what I was expecting her to say. Cleo let out a squeal and clapped with excitement.

“Y-yeah,” I stammered. “Wow. Of course I’m game.”

“Good.” Lola’s smile was wide and wicked, and she brushed her bleached-blond hair off her face before reaching her hand across the table to shake mine. “Just so you know, I really wanted us all to go on a double date.”

I laughed wistfully at this. “That would have been fun,” I agreed.

“Who knows,” chimed in Cleo. “Maybe you’ll get the chance.”





Chapter Twenty-Seven

Franny



I’d never been more nervous in my life to see someone, and we weren’t even meeting face-to-face. But for days, I’d been in a panic, nerves raging. Then finally the day arrived, and I spent hours prepping myself, getting ready. I washed my hair and shaved my legs, and spent a good fifteen minutes trying to do a cat eye with eyeliner before giving up and wiping it off, hoping the smudges on my lid weren’t too noticeable. Then I changed my shirt three times, only to end up back in the first one I put on. And now there was nothing left to do but pick up my phone.

“Franny?”

That face, the voice: It was foreign and yet so familiar, all at once. It sent my heart racing, out of my chest, up into the sky, setting off fireworks.

“Hi,” I said, my voice cracking. Was I going to cry? The answer came in an instant, tears sliding down my face. I grabbed a tissue from the box on Jim’s desk, dabbed it in the corners of my eyes. “I can’t believe it’s really you.”

There, on the screen, was my half sister.

She let out something that sounded like a laugh and a squeal. “I cannot believe you’re real!” she said, her Italian accent adding a melody to every word.

We stared at each other on our screens, smiling. Her hair was long, but curly like mine. Our eyes were different; hers were dark brown and wider set. But our noses both sloped up ever so slightly, and there was something about seeing her that just felt comfortable, like coming home at night to a light left on.

“How’s your mama?” she asked, and I could see the concern on her face.

“So much better. Thanks for asking.” I exhaled, releasing my nerves a bit. “I’m so excited to see you,” I said. “I’ve been so nervous.”

“Me too,” she said. And, god, she was beautiful when she smiled. “I’ve been worried about what you would think of me.”

“What?” I leaned back in surprise. “I’m so in awe of you, and all you’ve done. I’ve been following along on your Instagram, and you’ve done so much amazing work.”

“Ah, well,” she said, pulling a curl down and letting it bounce back up, then repeating the gesture. “A client just fired me from a huge job, but I won’t put that on the internet.”